


looks good on you

by Fatale (femme)



Series: happy malec ficlets [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: From his vantage point on the bed, Alec hesitates, then asks, “Magnus, am I boring?”Magnus turns around and blinks heavily-outlined eyes at him. “Certainly not! You’re dependable, responsible, unwavering.”Alec frowns. “Those all kind of sound like synonyms for boring.”Magnus crosses the room and sits down next to Alec. “They’re not, and that’s not all you are. To describe everything you are would take a lifetime.”“A really steady and dependable lifetime, huh?” To Alec, it sounds more like what someone would find desirable in a warranty for tires than a boyfriend.





	looks good on you

**Author's Note:**

> this is really self-indulgent, no lie. please don't take this very seriously.

 

Alec’s supervising a group training session on Friday when talk naturally falls to weekend plans.

“Clary and I are going to Pandemonium later tonight. Izzy, you in?” Jace asks while hooking Clary’s lead leg with his own and neatly sweeping her. She falls forward with a soft grunt, rolls away and gets back up, stance adjusted for better balance. Alec nods in her direction approvingly.

Isabelle shrugs. “Sure. Guess I could bring Simon.” She turns to Alec. “What about you and Magnus?”

Before Alec can answer, Jace scoffs loudly. “Alec? At a club on a Friday? Who would play with his cats and read all his boring books? They’d get lonely and sad.”

“It’s only the one cat,” Alec mutters, completely ignoring the rest, because, shamefully, he had been planning to get a burger and tuck into his stack of unread books. Despite Jace’s assumption that Alec hates all joy, reading _is_ fun for him.

“Get off my lawn,” Izzy says in a low scratchy voice that Alec assumes is supposed to sound like him, except he doesn’t talk like an old man and has, in fact, never had a lawn, even if the spirit of the jibe is infuriatingly apropos.

“What is the world coming to? Kids don’t have any common sense anymore,” Clary says.

“I’m mostly talking about you when I say that,” Alec points out.

“This soup’s too cold,” Jace chimes in.

Although he totally hates himself for saying it and playing into their vaguely untrue stereotypes, regrets the words even they’re leaving his mouth, he cannot forgive Jace for serving them lukewarm leftover clam chowder. First, because Izzy made it and everyone knows better, and second, because Jace has no standards for what he puts in his mouth, a fact that a dozen random hookups can attest to.

“It was too cold and it’s not like I go home, wear cardigans, drink milk, and watch Bonanza reruns,” Alec protests. He wears a hoodie and watches RuPaul’s Drag Race. _Goddamnit_.

“Grandpa’s out,” Jace says. “It’s just going to be us tonight.”

“Would everybody get back to fucking work already?” Alec says grumpily.

  
\---

  
Alec knows they were just joking, having a little laugh at the fact that he could maybe be considered a homebody, maybe doesn’t have much of a life beyond work, TV reruns, and reading books as dry as a popcorn fart. But, fuck the world, it kind of _hurt_. Because if he is such a boring nobody, which he has always secretly suspected, then what the hell is Magnus doing with him?

Magnus is busy trying on various looks, wriggling into clothes and just as quickly discarding them, trying to create a “moment” as he puts it. He has to swing by his club for a few hours and check on the operations, but he’ll be back soon enough, he assures Alec, with plenty of time to catch Project Runway.

It’s also incredibly depressing that Magnus hadn’t even bothered to ask him to come. At least Izzy still tries.

Magnus is wearing some kind of jacket with silver spikes on the shoulders, lots of chains running down the length of it, paired with tight pants and leather boots. He looks -- dangerous, spectacular, like every fantasy Alec has ever had and few extra besides. Alec is wearing a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweats with a small hole in the crotch. He has never felt so ill-matched with a person since Jace unilaterally decided they should be parabatai, since he stood at an altar with Lydia and thought, _Oh fuck, really_? He has spent his entire life next to other people, feeling slightly less than, like he doesn’t deserve to be there.

From his vantage point on the bed, Alec hesitates, then asks, “Magnus, am I boring?”

Magnus turns around and blinks heavily-outlined eyes at him. “Certainly not! You’re dependable, responsible, unwavering.”

Alec frowns. “Those all kind of sound like synonyms for boring.”

Magnus crosses the room and sits down next to Alec. “They’re not, and that’s not all you are. To describe everything you are would take a lifetime.”

“A really steady and dependable lifetime, huh?” To Alec, it sounds more like what someone would find desirable in a warranty for tires than a boyfriend.

Magnus chuckles. “Alexander, I’ve had partners that have been wild and hedonistic beyond belief--”

“Okay,” Alec says loudly.

“--but those relationships all fizzled out because you can’t build anything lasting on something so transient. And _that_ , in time, that becomes boring. You have always surprised me in the very best of ways.”

“Okay,” Alec says again, softer this time.

  
\---

  
It takes about five minutes after Magnus portals out for the doubt to creep back in.

Alec hates this part of himself, the thin veneer of respectability that hides the secret crazy beneath. In theory, he knows that everyone is kind of like this, as evidenced by Jace’s occasionally bizarre behavior around Imogen and his own mother’s shameful involvement with the Circle, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

So he can lie here, feel sorry for himself and wallow in his collection of Nathaniel Hawthorne, or he can peel himself out of his sweats and do something about it.

Energized by the plan brewing in the back of his mind, Alec goes to the bar cart and pours himself a drink. He’s going to need to be pretty drunk to pull this off.

Alec digs through his clothes to find the tightest black pants he owns, dismisses a dozen shirts for being too boring, and takes a deep breath before going to Magnus’ closet and finds a vest that he thinks will fit. He slips out of his sweatshirt and puts the vest on, shivers a little because it’s drafty and his arms are cold and tries not to overthink it too much. Does he look and feel stupid? Yes. Is he tired of everyone making fun of him? Also yes.

He goes to the bathroom and tries to tousle his hair a little, fails, finger-combs it back into place, and then gives up completely. He’s not always sure why Magnus chooses to be with him, but he’s also certain it’s not because Magnus suffers under the delusion that Alec is a super stylish person.

Alec ignores the lingering glances he gets as he heads to Pandemonium, slips past the doorman and makes a beeline for the bar. He orders a double shot of whiskey and shotguns it, trying not to think about the fact that he can feel a draft on his midsection.

Next to him, a Seelie offers to buy him a drink and Alec agrees, thinking about how nice folks are being to him tonight. He drinks quickly, already feeling the alcohol burn down his throat and warm his belly.

He feels good, on his way towards being relaxed. The music booming behind him no longer feels like a personal threat. So when the Seelie asks him to dance, he thinks, sure, why not? He can loosen up a little, have another drink, go find Magnus and show him how surprising he can actually be.

The Seelie is beautiful, Alec notes distantly, but he’s not Magnus. At this point in his life, Alec has to admit that Magnus is pretty much it for him, probably has been since they first locked eyes.

Though at the time, he found it horrifying and little funny when Clary and Jace thought they were siblings, he can appreciate the heartbreak more now. He doesn’t know how he would handle feeling this way about someone only to be told he couldn’t have them. With that in mind, he’s been trying to be nicer to Clary and Jace, if only they wouldn’t keep doing to stupid things that piss him off.

Behind him, arms wrap around his hips possessively, and Alec stutters to a stop. He’s getting ready to kick some ass when he recognizes the distinctive rings gleaning on the hands, and he leans back instead.

“I was looking for you,” Alec says.

“Not very hard,” Magnus replies and hooks his chin on Alec’s shoulder. Whatever look he gives the Seelie, he scuttles off in a hurry without so much as a nod in Alec’s direction and Alec grins. Magnus dances with other people all the time -- he’d have to, or else he’d spend all his time sitting in the corner looking gloomy with Alec -- but apparently, he’s not as pleased when it’s the other way around. Possibly because it means something very different to Alec than to Magnus, and Alec’s already a little sorry.

“Hey, you know I love you, right?” This possibly isn’t the best place to be having a life-affirming conversation, but no one ever accused Alec of having great timing.

“I assume all this is to prove a point?” Magnus says, palm slipping up the flat of Alec’s belly teasingly.

“I thought it was,” Alec says. “I thought I was trying to prove I was adventurous enough for you. But now I think it was for me -- just to prove that I could.”

“No one has ever accused you of not being brave.”

It’s true, no one has, except for Alec himself. Not in battle, obviously, but in his personal life. Except for a few extremely notable times, it feels like he constantly hovers on the cusp of indecisiveness, self-doubt and worry nagging his every step, holding him back from taking what he truly wants. And what has that gotten him, really? All of the best moments of his life have come about from him ignoring those what-ifs. It’s how he got Magnus, and it’s how he ended up here, strobing lights and bodies all around him, Magnus at his back, and pressed tightly into his arms. Alec sighs and relaxes into it.

“Nice outfit,” Magnus says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

“You don’t like it?” Alec asks.

“I would love it if I honestly thought any of this seemed like you.”

“I don’t hate it here,” Alec confesses. He’s surprised to realize he means it. The mass of bodies, the dim light, the thumping bass -- there is an electric excitement in the air that Alec can appreciate. He sees why it appeals to people like his sister and Magnus, people who crave connection. To lose yourself in the masses, to be both anonymous and a part of something larger. Doesn’t everyone need that at some time?

“Come on, dance with me,” Alec says.

“Are you going to regret this in the morning?”

“Sure,” Alec says, “but come dance with me anyway.”

  
\---

  
On their way out, Alec and Magnus run into Izzy and Jace, surrounded by admirers. He saw Clary and Simon dancing earlier, and Clary gave him thumbs up, to which Alec scowled in response. She should be training, working on her lazy stance, but he can forgive it for once. After all, sometimes you need to cut loose and have some fun.

“You look good,” Izzy tells Alec, lips curled into a knowing smile.

“We’re going home. I find that this scene doesn’t really do it for me anymore,” Magnus says.

“We can stay longer,” Alec offers.

Magnus grins. “I’d rather be home and watching TV with you in your sinful little sweatpants.”

“They’re just pants, Magnus.”

“Oh, don’t think I didn’t see that naughty hole--”

“Okay, I get it,” Alec yelps, mortified.

“Get a room, you two,” Izzy says, but she’s laughing.

Alec fully intends to. He follows Magnus through the door, cold air hitting him, sharp and bracing, and into the night, but Alec barely feels it with Magnus’ hand tucked firmly into his own.

From behind him, he hears Jace ask Izzy, sounding confused, “Was he wearing a little vest?”

 

 


End file.
